by Luna

by Luna

Luna

Blog Intro

Hello, I'm Luna, and I'd like to welcome you to "Kisses from Kairo,"* my blog about living and working as an American belly dancer in Cairo.

Life in Cairo isn't easy for dancers, foreigners, women, or even Egyptians.It is, however, always exciting. That’s why after living here for seven years, I've decided to share my experiences with the world.From being contracted at the Semiramis Hotel to almost being deported, not a day has gone by without something odd or magical happening.I will therefore fill these pages with bits of my history in Cairo—my experiences, successes, mistakes, and observations.Admittedly, my time here has been rather unique, so I want to stress that while everything I write is true, my experiences do not necessarily reflect the lives of other dancers.

In addition to my life as a belly dancer, I will write about developments in costuming, performances, festivals, and, of course, the dance itself.I will also make frequent references to Egyptian culture. I should note that I have a love/hate relationship with Egypt. If I make any criticisms about the country, please keep in mind that I do so with the utmost love, respect, and most of all, honesty. Egypt has become my home, so I want to avoid romanticizing and apologizing for social maladies, as most foreigners tend to do. Nothing could be more misguided, patronizing, or insulting.

I hope you find this blog informative, insightful and entertaining, and that we can make this as interactive as possible. That means I'd love to hear from you. Send me your comments, questions, complaints, suggestions, pics, doctoral dissertations, money, etc., and I will get back to you. Promise. :)~

My Videos

Friday, December 21, 2012

Crazy Dog Lady

Two brown puppies up for adoption.

Yep. It’s official. I’m the crazy dog lady of Cairo. :) I am
now the proud caretaker of 5 dogs. One mum and four pups. I swore I
wasn’t going to rescue anymore dogs, but alas, I lied.

It all started a few
months ago. I was coming home from a long night of work when I noticed a
sad-looking dog curled up in the entrance of my building. That’s odd, I
thought. Street dogs usually avoid people. There’s probably something
wrong with it if it’s decided to seek refuge inside the building. So I
decided to find out. I approached the dog slowly, not knowing if it was
wounded or scared, or if it would bite me. “Hiwoy,” I said (that’s “hi”
in the super retarded doggie language I invented :D). I got closer and
crouched down to pet its head until it finally acknowledged me by wagging its
tail. Very well. It didn’t seem to be hurt, so I made my way to the
elevator.

The next day on my
way out, I found the same dog lying in the same place. This time, it got
up to greet me. Hmm. Female. A little on the skinny side, but
good-looking nonetheless. She was dark brown with a beige belly and white
paws. And the tip of her tail was also white—the hallmark of Egypt’s ubiquitous kalb
balady (street dog). The poor thing looked hungry, so I went
upstairs and came down with the only thing in my fridge a dog would eat—some
leftover bitza with shreds of chicken. Expectedly, she
inhaled it. I left her to go to work.

As the weeks went on,
these encounters became routine. I would bring her leftover chicken from
the Nile Memphis, and she would devour it. All was going well, until one
day, the dog suddenly disappeared. Hoping she would eventually turn up, I
began saving scraps of chicken and meat in a plastic bag that I kept in my
refrigerator. Days passed, and the bag kept growing. But
there was no sign of the dog. Finally after two weeks, I caught sight of
her. So I ran upstairs to fetch her bag of goodies, and dumped it outside
my building.

Mama with puppies at 3 days old. <3

NOT the smartest
move. I didn’t realize it, but the food had rotted and grown
maggots! Not only did she not eat it, but my landlord witnessed me
emptying this huge bag of frozen maggots in front of the building. He
didn’t have a problem with the maggots though. It was the dog, which he
insisted was vicious and was scaring his tenants. Rather than ask me to
stop feeding her, however, he threatened in Arabic to quote unquote “shoot her
with my tabanga in front of you if I catch you feeding her
again.” (Tabanga is Egyptian slang for shotgun.)

That was it.
The Brooklyn in me wasn’t having it. “You know what, ye hagg?” I
responded. “Shoot me instead of the dog so I’ll have the
satisfaction of knowing you’ll spend your last years in jail.”

(FYI, my landlord and
I don’t get along very well. He’s constantly pushing his boundaries, and
I’m constantly pushing back. Like when he lied about the amount of rent
we agreed to after I signed the lease. Like when he
yelled at me for having “naked women” (i.e. my unveiled girlfriends) visit
me. Like when he constantly implies that I’m an infidel and should
convert. Plus, I think he figured out that I’m a belly dancer. He
just loves my rent too much to kick me out.)

If there’s one thing
life (and history) has taught me, it’s that when somebody makes a threat,
believe them. This, plus the fact that killing stray dogs here is more
common than I’d like to admit, made me take him seriously and think of ways to
save the dog, especially since she was pregnant.

First, I tried to get
the dog into my apartment. But she refused to get in the elevator or walk
up the stairs. Then, I figured I’d send her to an animal shelter where
she could safely give birth. But all the shelters were over-capacitated
and refused to take a pregnant dog. Which left me with no other option
than to let nature take its course.... which made me extremely
uncomfortable, knowing that she would continue to come in the building, and
that @$$hole might kill her. I was so uncomfortable that I lost sleep
over it. And every time I heard gun shots (a common thing these days), I
would run downstairs to see whether the dog had been shot.

This is Bikya. He's been adopted. :)

Luckily, Kelba was
still alive. And she kept visiting us at night. Fearing what might happen, I'd shoo her out of the building and slam the door
behind me. I needed a more permanent solution though, so I arranged with
the bawab (doorman) of the neighboring building to help me
out. Supposedly, the dog was his (or at least that’s what he said), so I
got him to agree that bringing her up to my apartment before she gave birth in
another two weeks was in her best interest.

Days of promising me bukra (tomorrow)
went by, and I realized he wasn’t going to budge. So I
renegotiated with him to at least lock her up in the manwar—the
outdoor space between our two buildings. It was dark and full of garbage,
but at least she’d be out of sight and could have her babies in safety.

A few more days went
by, and the bawab still hadn't done anything. Kelba kept
coming in my building, and she was about to burst any day now. One night, I
found her curled up in a sand pit in the lobby. I tried to lure her
outside with a chicken breast, but this time, instead of following me, she
buried it in the sand. Huh. That’s
weird. I wondered if that were a sign she’d be delivering soon.
Sure enough, that’s what happened. She had four beautiful puppies the
following morning, but not before I dragged the bawab out of
his room and forced him to put her in the manwar. He
did as I told, and left her with a bucket of water and the chicken I had
brought her.

For three days, I had
the bawab open the door for me so that I could
feed her and check on the little ones. I also gave him money to buy them
food. Needless to say, that never happened. Not only had he not
used the money as intended, but he never changed the water, which was turning
into a swamp in a bucket. I yelled at him for being so neglectful, and
demanded he bring the dogs up to my apartment NOW, lest they die of disease and
the cold. “But madame,” he shot back at me, “the problem is that I sold
them. Someone is coming to take the mother and puppies in the next hour,
so I can’t give them to you.”

The lone female in the litter. Up for adoption.

“AHA!” I
told him. “You’re a disgrace and a liar, and you’re only doing this
because I’m a foreigner. You know damn well that Egyptians would never
buy street dogs, and that the entire neighborhood thinks I’m crazy for taking
interest in them. If you think your lies are going to make me give you
more money, you’re mistaken. Cut the sh!t and bring the dogs up,
NOW!”

Now, I don’t usually
talk to people this way. But sometimes, you just have to be a beast to
get people to do the right thing! Besides, I couldn’t control
myself. I had been losing sleep over these poor creatures, and wouldn’t
be able to live with myself if they died.

I must have overwhelmed the bawab. :) He promptly placed the four puppies
in a cardboard box and proceeded up the stairs to my apartment. The
mother followed along. We placed the dogs on a mattress in my spare
bedroom, and closed the door on them. I thanked the bawab for
doing the right thing and gave him 20 pounds. On his way down, he told me
he wanted 1000 pounds for the puppies. So I answered the only way a true
Egyptian would know how to answer—with a big, fat “inshallah.” There's another side to this that I should mention. Bringing the dogs up to my building was also a matter of my safety. You see, Cairo's streets are littered with shabab, young men who have absolutely nothing to do except make trouble. My street is no exception. Given the current wave of violent sexual harassment, I was putting myself in harm's way by taking care of the dogs, especially at night. Having them in my apartment was thus in all of our interests.

Two
Months Later

Two months later, I’m
drowning in piss and poo. I spend almost all of my free time cleaning,
wiping, sweeping, mopping, scrubbing, and bathing. That’s why I haven’t
blogged in a while. But I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love the
puppies to pieces, and they’ve grown into the cutest, sweetest things I’ve ever
seen.

This is Maksoom. :) Also up for adoption.

But, as usual,
there’s a problem. My $h!thead landlord just threatened to evict
me. He sent his son to tell me that angels don’t enter houses with dogs,
and so me and my dogs have to go. This conversation happened in Arabic,
two nights ago in the street, and went something like this:

“Ye madame, my father
says your lease finishes at the end of this month, and he won’t be renewing
it.”

“Wait, what? I
signed a lease for 2 years, not 6 months. What are you talking
about?” I asked.

“Well, you have dogs
in your apartment and the neighbors are complaining about all the barking.”

“Oh, ok. So my
dogs are barking, and somehow that means I signed a 6 month lease even though
the contract says 2 years?”

“Look, are you Muslim
or Christian?” he asked me.

I saw where this was
going. Out of spite, I wanted to tell him that I was a pagan, or an
atheist, or better yet, Jewish! Instead, I controlled myself and
picked the answer that most closely approximated my spiritual affiliation.

“I’m Christian.”

“Well we’re Muslim,”
he went on. “And in our religion, we’re not allowed to have dogs in our
houses.”

“Ok but the dogs are
in MY house, not YOUR house.”

“But the neighbors
don’t like it either.”

“Again, the dogs are
in MYhouse, not the neighbors’ houses. They
don’t see or smell the dogs, and honestly, not one of them has complained to
me,” I said.

“But the problem is
that dogs prevent angels from entering the house,” he responded.

Hmm.
What about cats and rats? Or cockroaches? Do they prevent angels
from entering the house too, or is it just dogs?

At this point, my
blood started boiling. Why he decided to inject religion into an issue
that was purely about an inconvenience to the neighbors was beyond me.
Besides, he was insulting my intelligence. Dogs prevent angels from
entering a house? Seriously?

I realized that if I
were going to continue this conversation, I would have to dumb it down—stoop to
his level. And so I did. “Oh don’t worry, since the dogs are only
in MYapartment, the angels will still enter YOURapartment.
Don’t worry about me, I can handle having an angel-free home for a little
while.” :)

“No, actually, your
dogs will prevent the angels from coming in the entire building.”

“Oh, really?
See cuz I thought dogs prevent robbers and vermin from entering the home.”

I couldn’t believe I
was having this conversation.

Bedtime on my carry-on suitcase!

(I guess I should
explain where this superstition about dogs and angels comes from. In
Islam, the recorded traditions and sayings of the prophet Mohamed (called ahadith in
Arabic), are considered a source of divine knowledge as equally authoritative
as the Quran. Years after the prophet died, believers gathered more than
60,000 of these hadiths. Not all of them were sahih, or
correct, and many contradicted each other. To solve this problem, early
Muslim theologians attempted to verify the authenticity of individual hadiths. They
did this not by making a judgment on the value of their content, but by
determining whether the people who recorded and transmitted them were
reputable. For example, many of the hadiths transmitted
by the four companions of the prophets, his wives and relatives are considered
correct. Also, hadiths that were recorded by more than
one individual were considered correct. Eventually, two theologians named
Muslim and Bukhari compiled what are considered to be the most authoritative
compendia of hadiths that were deemed to be authentic.

Several hadiths in
these compendia talk about dogs. There are hadiths about
killing dogs. There are hadiths about how profit derived
from the sale of dogs is illegal, just as profits from prostitution or the sale
of alcohol are illegal. There are hadiths about dogs
annulling prayers, and about dogs annulling rewards for good deeds. And
finally, there are hadiths about dogs preventing angels from
entering the home. Granted, lots of Muslims either don’t know about these
or choose to completely ignore them. And there are also lots of Muslims
who apologize for them either by claiming that they’re inaccurate, or that some
of the wording was used differently “back then,” or that the hadith are
not (as) binding as the Quran. But there are many more who do know about
these hadiths, understand them literally, and apply
them. Indeed, my landlord’s son wasn’t the first to inform me about dogs
and angels. I’ve heard this from many Muslims throughout my ten years of
traveling in countries such as Yemen, Morocco, Qatar, Syria, Lebanon, Jordan,
Egypt, and even in the States. You can learn more about dog-related hadithshere and here. (Just ignore the religious polemics and inflammatory language at the bottom of
the page. Or not.)

My angels.

In all fairness, I
should add that there are many other hadiths in these
compendiathat encourage kindness to animals in a more general
way. And though they seem to contradict the spirit of the hadiths on
dogs, they are considered to be just as authentic. You can read some of
these hadithshere and here.)

Back to my
conversation with the landlord’s son. We continued going back and forth
about the technicalities of angels and dogs until I blurted out that MY“religion” preaches
compassion for animals, not killing them on the street with your “tabanga!” Shockingly,
my opponent replied that it is permissible to kill street dogs, as opposed to
“clean dogs with papers.” I asked him what the difference was, and aren’t
all living things created by God. And why fault the dog for being born in
the street.

I
began crying tears of rage. I wanted to punch him for telling
me to throw the dogs in the street, for insulting my intelligence, and for
trying to make me feel like an infidel. I screamed that I’d rather be
evicted than throw my dogs in the street, and told him his father was a
hypocrite for having a prayer scar the size of a hamburger on his
forehead. I also asked him if the smell of marijuana prevents angels from
entering the building...

That night, I decided
two things. The first was that I should start looking for a new
apartment, even if it meant I’d be moving for the 12th time in
four years!!! I was getting sick of being treated like a second class
citizen. The second was that I would strap on my white iridescent
belly dance wings and flap around the building entrance to “prove” that angels
enter buildings with dogs. :D

Seriously though, I
will be looking elsewhere, even though the landlord’s son told me the next day
to forget everything and that I could continue living there with the
dogs. I guess they came to their senses. Or don't want to lose my
rent. But if it’s not one thing, it’s another. It’ll only be a
matter of time before they make my life miserable with some other stupid
“problem.”

In the meantime, the
puppies are up for adoption. Three have already been adopted and will be
shipped to New York City as soon as they’re ready to be weaned. The other
one, Maksoom, still needs a home. If you or someone you know has always wanted a dog,
now’s your chance. As far as I’m concerned, the puppies are the real
angels. But more importantly, you’d be doing a huge act of
kindness. These creatures don’t have a fighting chance on the streets of
Egypt. This isn’t exactly a dog-loving culture, and many dogs are beaten
or murdered, or else get run over by cars—which is what happened to Kelba’s last
batch of puppies before I met her. :*( Unfortunately, I don’t have the
resources or time to care of them, so please consider adopting. If
you want to help but can’t take a puppy, you can donate to my online
fundraiser to help me cover the expenses of food and vet
bills until I'm ready to ship them to their new owners.

Thanks for
considering, and email me at lunaofcairo@gmail.com for more
information on adoption or donation.

2 comments:

Luna, Masoom will soon, perhaps, be my dog! I already have two dogs, one quite elderly,and feel this pup and I will be great friends!My son works at CBOE, knew I was looking for another companion animal, and told me about Massom--yay!

About Me

Luna is an American belly dancer contracted at the Nile Memphis in Cairo. Her authentic Egyptian style, musical interpretation, and stage presence make her one of the most requested dancers in Egypt. For performance and class schedules, or to book Luna for a workshop, contact Luna at lunaofcairo@gmail.com.